My Dad and I watch the Super Bowl

I am in New York, My dad is in New Orleans. Together we watched the Superbowl. This is our conversation. I edited for spelling but that’s it. We have unlimited texting incase you can’t tell. I feel that this shows how even two people who know nothing about foot ball could appreciate the wonderment that was last nights game.

Dad: R U watching the Superbowl?
Me: GO GIANTS.
Me: You?
Dad: I'm at a Super Bowl party in New Orleans. Mom is at the hotel writing and avoiding sports. How ‘bout them Giants (at last).
Me: WOOO! Though the giants are like democrats. They can snatch defeat from the jaws of victory.
Dad: Yes I am (underline am) capable of going to a Super Bowl party… Who’s playing? Seriously, there is good food and drink. And I'm in another culture, and digging it.
Me: I’m actually watching it alone. I kinda care. We should talk about New Orleans when you get a chance.
Dad: I can’t belive you are watching without roomies. Yes, lets talk New Orleans soon. We are still building toward fat teus. It all seems very lavish and debauched, but apparently we haven’t seen anything yet.
Me: was there a parade yesterday?
Dad: Several. We saw 2. Saw 2 today. And we got stuck in traffic tonight b/c theres another now.
Me: so many parades. Having a good time?
Dad: Very much so. I have never seen anything like this & mom & I r enjoying the weirdness.
Me: Good good. When is the ball?
Dad: Monday nite. And what was with that Patriots scoring?
Me: I KNOW. I am not happy.
Dad: New Orleans is rooting for Eli Manning.
Me: Everyone hates the pats. They cheat.
Me: That was a beautiful throw. Did you see it?
Dad: This is exciting. I did c it.
Me: AAAAA! Go eli!
Dad: WOW. TD.
Me: Oh god. Longest 1 sec ever.
Dad: 1 second to go.
Me: WOOHOO!
Dad: YES!
::later::
Me: Eli’s dad was the quarterback for the new Orleans saints. That’s why they were cheering for eli.
Dad: and he and Peyton and an older bro all went to High School here.
Me: Ah. Go New Orleans.
Dad: archie was beloved here my hosts tell me.
Me: Well NY has certainly adopted Eli.

Voices of the Homeland

We have such an interesting kitchen counter. Where else can you find cougar urine next to Listerine? It’s like the lion laying down with the lamb.
-- My father

Mom: I’m concerned that you are playing too many computer games. There isn’t enough book reading. When I was your age I was spending all my time—
My brother: Reading books?
Mom: making out in cars with boys.

Catholicisim for Dummies.

My father, in his infinite sweetness, bought me Catholicism for Dummies. The note accompanying it said "whether or not God exists, this book certainly does."

This is the best piece of the theatre that I have ever seen.

Tonight I saw the play “Black Watch” with my father which was honestly one of the best pieces of theater I have ever seen. Its about the black watch Scottish regiment which has been around for 300 years and is currently serving in Iraq. As one character explicitly says in the play “it takes 300 hundred years to build a world respected military regiment and two years to fuck it all up.”
At first it seems like its just going to be a documentary play with transcripts of interviews with solders who have returned from Iraq. But then five minutes in, the actors have been playing pool after returning from Iraq, everyone clears the stage and then there is a knife in the middle of the pool table. And I'm like “was that knife there all the time?” and then two people CARVE THEIR WAY OUT OF THE POOL TABLE and climb out in full military garb. And BAM you're in Iraq.
I don’t want to ruin it for anyone because I want EVERYONE to see it but there is marching and dance and singing and bagpipes and video and explosions and strobe lights and harnesses and violence and the word cunt is said about ever other word.
Seriously. Its amazing.
It also breaks your heart. I really just can’t explicitly say how much I loved it.

For the Missoulians

This is an email my dad forwarded me from his friend Gyda.

"On Friday I asked Arleen Adams (who led the songs and prayers on the M on Friday) about the translation of Isul. I had read the word on the historic place sign that's in Hellgate Canyon right along the river and just off East Broadway between my condo and East Missoula. The sign said that the Salish people called this place (Missoula Valley) Isul-which is a shortened word. I wondered what Isul meant. Arleen told me Friday morning that it had something to do with "cold, it's cold." She went back and talked with Salish speakers and learned that the longer word for Missoula Valley is Nmesuletkw-which literally translated means "once it was frozen" referring to glacial lake Missoula.

"That word Nmesuletkw, is where the word Missoula comes from. It's an anglicized Salish word.

"This word just thrills me. It's a history lesson and a geography lesson. The Salish people remember in the place name for Missoula that there was once a glacier here.

"It's humbling...."

Gyda

When it gets real hot like this I keep my undies in the ice box.

Oh the pain.
I feel that I am about two steps this side of death. Barely. We are into the third week of the program and I want to collapse. Or kill something. Something that might resemble a student? Well, you may be on to me.
I wish my motha could see me now. She always complains that I am lazy when I am in Missoula. If. She. Only. Knew.
Alright. Enough with the self pity.
I took the chickens to the UN on Saturday (je suis un dork). Its for an assignment where they have to go and experience a part of New York they’ve never been to before and then write about it, thinking about place as character or something. I feel that they were a little under whelmed. I, however, entered the security council chambers and nearly started crying. (je suis over emotional)
Then I took them to Café Reggio.
I also saw SLC Skirts. Jarky was not in a skirt. Or even a kilt. He was wearing something that had a sneaking resemblance to pants. That bastard. I was misled. But he was funny and I love him and I got to hear all about Operation Too-Cute-For-Words-So-Us-Bitter-Normal-People-Wont-Even-Try-To-Begin-To-Describe-It. Theresa and I get the best friends EVER award for staying up waaaaaaaaaay past our bed time to see him. (I was out after the kiddies curfew. Gota love that ol double standard.)
Wednesday, this coming Wednesday, is my night off. Back when I had energy I planed on going wild. Yeah. Not so much. But I am planning on a nice meal (not downstein thank god) and perhaps you me and everyone we know (mostly because it got good reviews but also partly because it has the guy who plays Saul on Deadwood and I fancy him). So if you are in New York and I love you, you are totally invited.


And now a chicken anecdote:
I’m sitting in the courtyard of the MoMA while the kiddies run amuck talking to my father about this and that. He’s puttering about the house, talking on the portable when he suddenly says to me “Honey, I need to put the phone down for a sec. one, two, three, four, five, six, chickens just got into the house.” Apparently, they started to roost on the kitchen table.
Who wants to come over to my house for dinner when I get back?
All I have to say it, there just isn’t enough bleach in the world to get me to eat off that table again.